Broken
by TheRandomTurtle
Summary: Devi and Johnny are broken. She's broken emotionally. He's broken emotionally, spiritually, AND mentally. But when Johnny becomes broken PHYSICALLY will Devi find the strength to help? Or will she leave the peices where they lay?
1. Prologue Break Even

A/N: ^_^ 'Ello Gents! This is my first ever Nny/Devi fan fic! Hell this is my first ever JTHM fan fic period, so I hope you enjoy it. If you don't, than that's fine. Just please don't be mean in your reviews. Flames make me sad L.

Disclaimer: I don't own Johnny or Devi or anyone else mentioned in this fic. They all belong to the supreme overlord Jhonen Vasquez. Now! On wit da fic!

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_**Broken**_

_**By Fifi**_

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_**Prologue (Break Even)**_

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_**I'm still alive**_

_**But I'm barely breathin'**_

_**Just prayed to a God**_

_**That I don't believe in**_

_**And I've got time**_

_**While she got freedom**_

_**Cuz when a heart Breaks**_

_**No it don't Break even**_

_**-The Script**_

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_What does a man do when he has nothing?_

_What does he do when everything leaves him… including his sanity?_

_What does a man do when his very purpose in life, the one thing he was put on this Earth to do - the one thing he has ever known… suddenly loses all meaning to him?_

_Well, the answer is actually quite simple. When a man suddenly finds that he has nothing… he does nothing. He _becomes _nothing._

_But, what does a man do when he has _almost _nothing?_

_What if, after discovering that his life is completely worthless, he finds something that could make it not so. What if there was something that could save the man from his ruinous life? What if that something… that _someone _could give him the one thing he has always longed for…_

_Happiness…_True _happiness, unadulterated and pure…_

_That's how it was for the thin young man standing in the shadows, his scrawny arms wrapped tightly around his chest as he gazed at the sight before him. _

_He had once had a purpose. A horrific purpose, but a purpose none the less. But now that was gone. Taken away with a single bullet to the head. And though he had hated his purpose, his soul mission in life, it was all he had ever known. Now he had nothing…_

_Nothing but her…_

_She was his life now. She was his everything, his _salvation_. _

_His savior…_

_She was the one thing he held above all else. The only living person on the planet that ever made the worthless young man feel as if he had value. But, there was a problem. _

_He had tried to kill her._

_The attempt (blessedly) had failed, but now she feared him. Hated him. Wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. He had, rather foolishly, tried to apologize to her, with less than encouraging results. She had displayed all her hurt and rage towards the young man - making him realize, a tad bit late, that he was as imbecilic as he was homicidal - and made it quite apparent that he was not to come anywhere near her from that day forward. He didn't blame her aversion towards him, though. He deserved her antipathy. But God, how he missed her. Missed her with every fiber of his being._

_He had gone away, far _far _away, in the hopes that he could destroy his feelings towards her. He promised her that he would "give her his nothing", so that she would no longer have to live in fear. He had tried to become cold and emotionless… but he failed. Miserably._

_Now, back from his little "holiday", he felt his existence even more inconsequential than before. He hadn't become cold, and now that his purpose as a waste-lock was over, the overpoweringly suffocating bloodlust that he had once felt, warping and consuming his mind on a daily basis, was no more, leaving a incalculable inner-emptiness in its wake. Oh, the former-slayer still hated humanity; reviled and abhorred the "living" "thinking" filth that dare call themselves people… but he could no longer find it within himself to end a persons life. He could slice and maim and horrifically disfigure, but the will to actually _end - _that had left him for good…_

…_and with its departure came something else. Something he had thought, and somewhat hoped, would never come. Visions… revelations…and worse of all…_

…_Memories._

_Terrible frightening apparitions of the past. Mental images that horrified and tore at his already painfully fragile mind, often leaving him a pitiful weeping thing of a man after they had had their way with his psyche._

_He was broken, in both his mind and his soul…_

_There was only one thing that kept him going now, and that was the beautiful, green eyed woman standing before him, completely unaware of his presence as she silently made her way home…_

To Be Continued…

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AN: I'm not exactly happy with this chapter. I tried to make it work but… eh, didn't turn out so well. The next chapter - which I'm posting right after I post this one - will be better, I promise! Cross mah shriveled lil heart!

Again, no flames please. I will gladly accept CONSTRUCTIVE criticism, though.

Id: You really could've done better, Fifi. I mean, even if it's just the prologue, it still should be… well… GOOD.

Ego: Yes, after all, if readers think that the first chapter of a story isn't satisfactory why would they stick around to read any later chapters?

Fifi: - QUIET! NO COMMENTS FROM THE PEANUT GALLARY! *mutters* Stupid figments.

Id and Ego: *Glare at Fifi*


	2. Savin' Me

AN: As promised, here is the second chappy, coming right at the heels of the first! This is where things REALLY get going, so feel free to just sit back and enjoy! (hopefully)

Disclaimer: I don't own Johnny or Devi or anyone else mentioned in this fic. They all belong to the supreme overlord Jhonen Vasquez. Now! On wit da fic!

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Broken

_**By Fifi**_

_**Savin' Me**_

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Heaven's gates won't open up for me

_**With these Broken wings I fall **_

_**And all I see is you**_

_**These city walls ain't got no love for me**_

_**I'm on the ledge of the eighteenth story**_

_**And all I scream for you**_

_**(come please I'm callin')**_

_**And all I need from you**_

_**(hurry I'm fallin')**_

_**I'm fallin'**_

_**-Nickleback**_

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Devi pulled the collar of her jacket up as a cold night breeze blew through her fuchsia-colored hair. She shivered, not much caring for the cool late January weather. The painter would be glad when the chill of winter finally gave way to the warmth of spring. The white slush covering damn near _everything _was really starting to get old.

The night was a peaceful one. The only sounds she could hear were the far away resonance of cars in the distance, and the soft "clump clump" of her boots against the frost covered sidewalk. As various different stores and shops passed her by, Devi took a moment to peek inside the carry-all bag she had slung around her shoulder.

'_I hope I got everything I needed,_' she thought. '_It'd be a real bitch if I got all the way home just to find out that I forgot to get a stupid tube of paint at the damned crafts store._' The young woman rifled through her bag, pushing around newly bought paints and brushes. She let out a low growl of annoyance. '_Shit, I should've made a list. Then I'd know for sure if I got everything._'

Devi's low growl grew into a snarl when, with all the rummaging she was doing, her bag suddenly slipped off her shoulder and fell to the ground, spilling its contents all across the cold cement walk.

"Shit!" she all but screamed into the night air.

For a moment Devi just wanted to stump and kick the fallen art supplies out of frustration, but she restrained herself. If she did that then the whole trip to the store would've been a waste of time _and _money. Instead, she just stood there, stiff and straight as a board, her hands clenched tightly into fists at her sides. After taking a long deep breath the young woman let out a despondent sigh, her breath coming out in a cloud of steam in the chilly air, before bending down to gather her things.

'_Why?_' she questioned silently to herself. '_Why have I been acting so… well, for lack of a better word, _bitchy_?_'

It had been this way for a couple of months now. The young woman would wake up in the morning and just be in a foul mood. She would sulk around all day and whenever someone - like Tenna - would try to cheer her up Devi would just blow up at her. '_I've been coming unglued a lot lately,_' she thought, picking up the last tube and brush from off the ground. For a moment, she just sat there, staring at the objects in her hand before letting out another sigh. She just couldn't understand it.

Things had actually been going pretty well for Devi the last couple of months. After defeating Sickness, the young artist was finally able to paint again. With her creativity no longer being fed upon she had created some pretty high-quality works of art. Some of the best she's ever done. She still worked for Nerve, but it wasn't as bad as before. Part of that was because she had improved so much as an artist that she was hardly ever asked to change or redo anything.

The bigger reason for why work was going so well, however, was because Mr. Nevers was no longer in charge of the graphic arts division. The already un-balanced man had finally gone off the deep end when he somehow got it into his head that his whole life was a Monty Python movie. He would speak in a thick British accent, "gallop" around the building while having his poor PA follow him clapping some coconuts together, and would often accuse various different women around the office of being witches and turning him into a newt. But the last straw was when Mr. Nevers stood outside the building and wouldn't let anyone inside until they each gave him a shrubbery.

(AN: Insert dramatic music here.)

Devi couldn't help but smile at the memory of her former boss being hauled away by white-coats, all the while screaming about "the violence inherent in the system". The person that Nerve had gotten to replace him was actually Nevers' niece, Katrina, who really wasn't that much older than Devi. A smart, confident woman, Miss Nevers was much more competent and business savvy (as well as more stable) a boss than her uncle had ever been. And most defiantly unlike her uncle, Katrina Nevers actually respected and listened to the artists that worked at Nerve, and made it clear that she greatly appreciated their creativity and input.

So there is was. Not only was Devi able to paint again, but things were going great at her job, and she was even getting over her agoraphobia.

'_So why is it that, even though my life seems to be getting better, I still feel so_…_ empty?' _Shaking her head, the fuchsia-haired woman returned the remaining supplies to her carry-all. Then, swinging the bag back over her shoulder, she straightened up and resumed her trek.

The streetlights shone down upon her as she strolled beneath them, her shadow growing and fading under each one. No one was on the street. She was alone, her inner confusion becoming straightened and more focused. Looking up at the evening sky, the jaded young painter wished that she could see the stars. Star-gazing always made Devi feel comforted and more at ease. Regrettably though, because of the bright lights and smog of the city, there wasn't a single celestial spark in sight. The night sky of the metropolis hung ominously above the young woman's head, making her feel almost trapped.

Without meaning to her mind drifted back to the last time she had seen a starry sky. It was over a year ago. She had been sitting atop the cliff that overlooked the city. Sitting there with-

Devi shook her head furiously. No, she would _not_ think of _him_! _He_ was the one who had almost ruined/taken her life. _He_ was the one who had made her too afraid to leave her apartment for months at a time. _He _the one who had…

… who had broken her heart.

_Johnny C._

_Nny._

Once again, Devi turned her attention back to the sky. '_Dammit, WHY? Why did he have to be _crazy_? He had been so _perfect_!'_ Johnny had been smart, funny, and not once did he try to grab her ass, which was something the painter had a lot of trouble with when it came to most of the men she dated.

Devi remembered the days when Nny would come visit her at Dragons Books. How he would timidly approach the counter she worked at, as if afraid she would scream in terror and runaway. They would talk for hours, sometimes engaging in very philosophical, thought provoking conversations, but most of the time just talking about nothing in particular. And every time she smiled at him or gave him a compliment he'd blush ever so slightly and bashfully look away, a tiny smile on his face. And every time she would look into his deep indigo eyes, the exact same color as the night sky, she would feel this innately powerful connection.

Devi wasn't a believer in fate, the concept of having no control over her future being quite unappealing to her. But that night, as the two of them sat on top of Johnny's car, gazing at the stars and the city and all the so-called _people_, she felt at home. She felt _whole_. She felt like, at that very moment, she was exactly where she was supposed to be. And as she gazed into Nny's night-colored eyes, the feeling only intensified ten-fold.

Which was why Devi would never forgive him for taking that pure, uncontaminated feeling of wholeness, and completely destroying it.

The fuchsia-haired woman angrily wiped her eyes, telling herself that they were tearing up because of the chilled wind blowing in her face. _'That son of a bitch!' _She practically screamed inside her head. _'It was all an act, I'll bet. All the talks at the bookstore, all the compliments he gave me, the sweet things he said. None of it was real! He was probably planning to kill me from the start and just wanted to lure me to his house first!'_

But, try as she might to convince herself otherwise, a small irrational part of her, deep down inside, knew this theory to be incorrect. It was that same little irrational part that wanted desperately to forgive Johnny for what he had done.

Devi didn't like that little part of her very much; that's why she never listened to it.

"And to think, the little shit _actually _tried to call and apologize," she hissed softly to herself. "It'll take a _hell _of a lot more than a _fucking recording _to get me to forgive that psycho-bastard. A _hell _of a lot more."

The night was quiet. Eerily so. One by one, the store lights went out, each one darkening as she passed. It almost seemed that _she _was the one causing them to go out. Devi tried to remember why she had, not only chosen so late at night to go buy art supplies, but also chose to _walk _when she could've easily just taken her car. The oddly deserted city street made her feel so exposed and vulnerable.

_Clink!_

Devi stopped. '_What was that?_'

The young woman stood frozen in place, straining her ears. It had come from behind her, the brief, soft sound of metal tapping against cement. It almost sounded like…

… like steel-toed boots against the sidewalk.

Devi, her breath coming in quick, eyes wide with fear, immediately spun around to find -

- nothing.

"Wha…?" The painter's eyes shifted frantically all around the dark empty street, searching every shadow in every ally, but found nothing. There was no one in sight. An eerie chill slithered down her spine and she shivered involuntarily.

'_Calm down, Devi,_' she told herself. '_There's nothing there. That sound could've been anything._'

Green eyes took one last sweep across the street before she finally turned and continued on her way. The, now on edge, young woman took several long deep breaths, trying desperately to calm her rapidly beating heart. '_Come on Devi. Don't freak out. There's nothing out there. You're almost home, so don't-freak-out. There's no one there._'

Try as she might, though, now that she was on her guard and paying attention to her surroundings, the artist just couldn't shake the increasingly overwhelming since that she was being watched. Almost unconsciously, Devi began walking faster. She didn't hear anything else behind her, no metallic sounding tings or footsteps other than her own. Still the sensation that she was being followed remained, and when Devi realized that she was just a block away from home her brisk walk turned into a jog. Then before the green-eyed woman knew it she was running.

'_Almost there. You're almost there. Just a little farther.'_ Finally Devi's apartment complex came into view. All that stood between her and home was a four-way intersection. An intersection that was usually very busy, but at the moment was oddly void of any crossing vehicles. Relief flooded through her. As Devi accelerated her pace even more she stole a quick glance over her shoulder. And it was at that moment, just as she leapt from the curb, her foot came down on a patch of ice in the road.

Devi let out a startled yelp as she slipped and stumbled, falling painfully hard on her hands and knees into the street. She was about to jump up and continue running when the sudden appearance bright lights shinning over to her left caught her attention.

Years later, whenever she'd look back upon that night, Devi would calculate that no more than three or four seconds passed between the moment she fell into the street and what had transpired right after. But those where the most significant and altering three or four seconds of her life.

Turning her head, Devi was only able to catch a glimpse of the oncoming headlights before a pair of hands grasped her arms in an iron grip. With almost inhuman strength she was yanked off the ground and thrown a good four or five feet to the side. As Devi fell to the pavement for the second time that night, she instinctively folded her body into the fetal position.

Lying there, her arms and legs tucked protectively against her chest, the frightened and disoriented young woman became aware of many things happening all at once.

She heard a voluble _whoosh _and felt a strong breeze as something whizzed past her. She heard the sound of screeching tires, a loud thud, a sickening crack, glass shattering, someone screaming, what sounded like a bag of wet cement hitting the pavement. Then silence…

Devi huddled there for what felt like an eternity, but in reality it couldn't of been more than thirty seconds. The stunned young woman couldn't fathom what had just happened, couldn't seem to think at all. It was as if her brain had just shut off. Slowly and laboriously Devi forced her mind to start working again.

'_Get up…_' was her first conscious thought. She remained where she was.

'_GET… UP…_' This time her body responded.

Devi carefully unfolded her arms and painfully pushed herself off the ground. It was then that she realized how badly she was shaking. She sat in the street, both hands placed on the pavement to steady herself, unable to stand just yet.

'_Well… at least I'm not in the fetal position anymore._'

As she took a couple of deep, stabling breaths, Devi suddenly heard something rather odd. '_Is that… Lady Gaga?_'

The shaken woman turned toward the music - '_Bad Romance,_' she absently recognized - and found it's source. A few yards away from her sat a little white car, it's motor and headlights (and apparently its radio) still on. The drivers side door suddenly opened and out stumbled a girl, no more than nineteen or twenty years old, who appeared to be even more shaken than Devi. The girl gripped the hood of her car with one hand and she appeared to be crying. She looked over at something to Devi's right and she began to cry even louder, a trembling hand shooting up to her mouth. She quickly dived back into the car and started digging around for something inside. The girl cursed loudly and the motor, along with the lights and radio, was shut off.

Devi blinked at the sudden silence, but continued to stare at the car. The girl re-emerged from the vehicle with something in her hand, a cell phone. She didn't seem to be aware off Devi's presence as she dialed, her eyes wide and frightened as they kept darting to Devi's right. She put the phone to her ear and waited anxiously, hopping from one foot to the other with frantic impatience.

"Yes! Please!" the girl cried as someone on the other end picked up, "God, please- I-I need an ambulance! I - oh fuck, I just hit someone with my car!"

For a moment, as she sat shivering in the street, Devi couldn't comprehend what she had just heard. '_She's not talking about me, is she? She can't be, I was pushed -_'

The painter's heart froze inside her chest, her eyes wide with sudden horror. Slowly, she turned her head to the right...

A body was laying not ten feet from where she sat. At first all Devi could do was stare. Her insides seemed to have turned to ice, her mind going completely blank, the frantic voice of the girl fading as blood thundered in her ears. For a few seconds she just sat, still as a statue, before her body gave a sudden jerk. Moving rather mechanically, Devi started to crawl. She made her way to the prone form, ignoring the pain in her scraped hands and knees. When she was right next to the man who saved her - she was close enough to see that he was indeed male - she once again stopped and stared.

He had his back to her so she couldn't see his face. However, she could clearly see a pool of blood forming around the man's head, his left leg bent in all sorts of unnatural positions. For a moment Devi was sure he was dead, but then she heard a soft, wet, gurgling sound and realized that it was the man breathing. Or at least trying to.

Green eyes focusing on the man's averted face, Devi's hand suddenly, almost involuntarily, moved forward. Gently grasping his shoulder, the trembling painter carefully turned him toward her…

…and somehow, as the distant sound of sirens grew progressively louder, Devi knew exactly who her savior was a second before his bloody, battered face came into view.

"Nny…"

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TBC…

AN: Bum bum buuuuuuuuum! Cliffhanger! Muahahahahah! Ahem, SO how'd j'all like this chappie? Wazzit GOOD? ( ^-^ ) Wazzit BAD? ( T-T )

Did y'all think that the Monty Python stuff was unnecessary? I kinda thought it was. I mean, it doesn't really do anything to advance the plot… but it made me laugh while I was writing it so I left it in. ^_^;;

Again, feel free to leave a review if you so wish it. And as previously stated, no flames. Only constructive criticism please. Remember, this is my first JTHM fanfic. To tell you the truth, this is the first story I've written with any REAL substance to it, other than Shot Throught the Heart, but that one was just a one-shot. This is a multi-chapter fic. THOSE ARE HARDER FOR ME TO WRITE! So please have mercy on me! *gives sad puppy-dog eyes*

Id: Surprisingly enough, I actually liked this chapter Fifi. It was DEFIANTLY more interesting than the last one, at least. Whadda you think, Ego?

Ego: Meh, it was so-so. Not the worst thing I've ever read, but most CERTAINLY not the best either.

Fifi: Grrrr... *pulls out a tape recorder* Memo to self: think up more compliant figments…


	3. How Could This Happen to Me

AN: Great ghosts of DOOKEY! I am soooooo sorry this chapter took so long. I've just been completely swamped lately with work and family stuff and -

Id: YOU FILTHY LIAR! You haven't been "swamped" with anything! You were just being lazy!

Fifi: *glares at Id* Ex-nay of the azy-lay!

Id: AND DON'T TRY TO CONFUSE ME WITH SPANISH!

Ego: 9_9 *sigh* Despite her updating abilities (or lack there of), Fifi would just like everyone who read and reviewed this abomination of a fanfic to know just how very grateful she is to you. Isn't that right Fifi?

Fifi: *slurping loudly on a juice-box* Huh?

Id and Ego: -_-;;

Disclaimer: I don't own Johnny or Devi or anyone else mentioned in this fic. They all belong to the supreme overlord Jhonen Vasquez. Now! On wit da fic!

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_**Broken**_

_**By Fifi**_

_**How Could This Happen To Me**_

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_**I open my eyes**_

_**I try to see but I'm blinded by the white light**_

_**I can't remember how**_

_**I can't remember why**_

_**I'm lying here tonight**_

_**And I can't STAND the pain**_

_**And I can't make it go away**_

_**No I can't STAND the pain**_

_**-Simple Plan**_

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_Agony. Suffering. Torture. Anguish…_

_All words used to express one thing._

_Pain…_

_But those are all just simple, useless words. None of them coming even remotely close to what he was experiencing at that very moment. Perhaps if he added a few adjectives…_

_Deep, freezing agony. Intense, fiery suffering. Unimaginable torture. Screaming anguish…_

_Nope, still incredibly inadequate definitions for the hell he was being put through. He was literally surrounded by pain. Surrounded by wretched sights and sounds that blared, burned, and swirled about him in a hideous cacophony of desolation._

_He tried to run from the pain, as he had done many times beforehand in the short time he had been trapped in this terrible unknown place. He tried to run, to beg and scream for relief. But he found that he had no legs with which to flee. No voice with which to beg and scream. No tangible body whatsoever. But that's impossible. How can he be in such agony without a body? He couldn't understand. Where was he? Why was this happening? Wha-_

_Another wave of indescribable suffering enveloped him in its hellish fury. He suddenly couldn't care less where he was or how. He just wanted the pain to stop._

_Stop! Oh fuck, please stop! Please, just make it all STOP! Just make everything GO AWAY!_

_And just like that, as if some sort of magical button had been pressed or switch had been flipped, it stopped. The pain, the images and sounds, it all just ceased…_

_He was left numb. Floating in a blank, empty void, he was still bodiless but thankful beyond reason for the sudden lack of sensory perception. He was oh so comfortably numb. Hell, he would even go as far as to say that he was "happily numb" if such a thing was possible._

_Bodiless. Weightless. Numb. No sight. No sound. For feeling of any kind. _

_Just numb._

_I can stay like this forever…_

'_I highly recommend that you be careful what you wish for,' a calm voice stated from behind him._

_Startled, he spun around to face the unknown speaker, a rather impressive feat to perform considering his lack of a physical presence. _

_A small boy stood before him in the void. A boy with large eyes, carrying a small stuffed rabbit in his little arms…_

_And it was at that moment that he was once again engulfed in unutterable pain…_

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"Shit!"

The metal pot unexpectedly boiled over. A loud hiss filled the kitchen as broiling water touched the red-hot burner. Devi quickly turned the heat down on the oven.

'_Well_,' she thought with a vague half-smile,'_I guess that means it's ready.'_ An oddly shrill giggle emitted from her throat and she immediately stifled herself.

The painter grabbed the box of noodles she had sitting on the counter and poured the proper amount into the boiling pot. That done, she turned her attention to the next burner, where a pan of spaghetti sauce was simmering. Taking a wooden spoon, Devi began to stir. She chose to ignore the slight tremor in her hand.

"Too bad I'm out of bread," she muttered out loud to herself, "I could've made garlic bread to go with this." Oh well. Too late now.

Running the spoon around the pan methodically, Devi stared down at the concoction of tomato sauce and ground beef. As she stirred, her unsteady hand moving the spoon continuously counter-clockwise, for the briefest of moments her mind began to wander…

The spaghetti sauce was thick and red…

Almost like blood…

…_Blood splattered across a shattered windshield…_

Devi gasped. Shaking her head furiously she accidentally dropped the sauce covered spoon unto the kitchen floor. She suddenly felt off-balance. Grasping the counter to keep from toppling over, the overwhelmed artist took several deep breaths, waiting for the feeling to subside. When it finally did she simply bent over and retrieved the fallen spoon, dutifully ignoring the ball of ice in her stomach. Making sure to clean up the little bit of spilt sauce off the floor with a paper towel she then deposited the wooden utensil into the sink.

'_It's okay. Everything's alright._' Picking up a pair of metal tongs she stirred the pot of noodles. They were almost ready. '_Just don't think. Everything will be fine as long as you don't think. Concentrate on the task at hand. Do. Not. Think._'

The large pot and pan held enough pasta to feed a family of at least five. Way too much for one young woman to eat by herself. Devi didn't care though. The more food there was, the longer it would take to cook.

And the longer it took to cook, the longer her mind would stay distracted from… other things.

'_Don't think. Don't think. Don't think.'_

When the pasta was finally tender Devi turned off the oven. Grabbing a plate from the cabinet she fixed herself a heaping helping of spaghetti. Snatching a fork from the silverware drawer, she took the nearly overflowing plate to the kitchen table and plopped down in the chair that was closest to her.

But she didn't eat. _Couldn't _eat. For a whole minute she sat there, staring at the steaming meal, hands clenched into tight fists on either side of the plate. The hand that clutched the fork was starting to ache but she paid it no heed.

'_Oh, fuck… I'm _thinking_!_'

The chair screeched across the linoleum as Devi pushed away from the table. Practically shooting to her feet, the green-eyed artist fled from the kitchen. The plate of spaghetti was left untouched and forgotten.

Rushing into the living room Devi looked around desperately, trying to find something to do. But what else was there?

Ever since she came home the night before, the distressed painter had been moving almost nonstop. She had tried to sleep, but her traitorous mind just kept on thinking when she didn't want it to. And the intense ball of ice that had been sitting in her gut since returning home reeeeeeeeeeally wasn't helping. So she'd gotten up and done the unthinkable - Devi D. started to clean her apartment.

The fuchsia-haired young woman did anything and everything. Washing all her clothes, doing all the dishes, sweeping/mopping/vacuuming the floors, cleaning the windows, and dusting anything with so much as a speck of dust accumulating on it. She organized all her books, CDs, and DVDs, cleaned out the fridge, and even resorted to scrubbing the toilet. When all that was done, Devi started cooking. Even though she wasn't hungry in the slightest.

'_I may never be hungry again after what happened last night -'_

…_A seeping gash across a sickly brow. Blood-matted cobalt hair. An angular face, agonizingly familiar, covered with bruises and liquid red…_

The ice seemed to throb and grow in her abdomen. Letting out a snarl of frustration, she bashed her fists against her forehead. "Don't think about that, _Goddamn it_! Just don't _fucking think about it_!"

She needed something to do. _Anything! _Anything to keep her mind from wandering into unpleasant places. But there was nothing more to do! She was desperately trying to keep the growing panic at bay when Devi spied a stray paintbrush sitting idly on the coffee table.

'_Of course!_' she thought triumphantly. '_Why the Hell didn't I think of that before?_'

Painting almost always helped put her in a better frame of mind. She felt a tad bit ridiculous now for doing all those chores when she could have easily just sat down and ran a brush across a canvas.

Exiting the living room, Devi was about to make a B-line for her paint-room, when something next to the apartment door caught her eye. She turned her head towards the object. Sitting right where she had dropped it the night before was the art supply bag. It was then that the artist remembered how low the paint-room was on materials. '_Better grab it. I bought all that stuff for a reason, after all._'

Changing course, she made her way down the hall to the door. Bending down, she was about to grasp the bag - when she saw something that made her heart seize in her chest. The ice in her stomach seemed to double in size.

The bag - which had been completely white when she'd bought it at the store, of that Devi was positive - was now decorated with tiny, reddish-brown stains. It was as if someone had flicked rust-colored paint on it. Only Devi _knew _it wasn't paint. The stains, though nothing more than tiny dots, stood out so blatantly against the white canvas bag that she could count how many there were.

Seven…

"Lucky number seven,' mumbled Devi, and her stomach gave a sudden lurch.

Bile instantly forming at the back of her throat, she leapt up and rushed to the bathroom. She just barley made it to the toilet in time. After vomiting up the majority of her internal organs Devi scooted back against the bathtub exhausted. Her throat felt like it was on fire. The frozen ball remained firming lodged in her gut. Frantic thoughts flitted through her mind feverishly.

'_It's his blood! I fucking brought his blood home with me!_'

Legs automatically drew up and pressed firmly to her chest, arms wrapping tightly around her knees. She started to sob hysterically, tears unabashedly spilling down her face.

Huddled there, crying and shaking, Devi finally started thinking…

* * *

Devi sat stiffly on the curb, the frozen concrete rather uncomfortable. Even so, she made no movements to stand. A thick gray blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders, she stared resolutely at her feet. It was the only safe place to look.

There were orange cones and yellow tape everywhere. To her left were two vehicles - an ambulance and, of course, the little white car. In the ambulance were two paramedics, a man and a woman, who were checking out the driver of the little white car. To her right, imprinted on the street, were skid marks - left by the first ambulance as it rushed in, packed its "parcel" onto a stretcher, and raced off to some hospital. And directly in front of her…

Almost directly in front of her was the pool of blood that was left behind.

So Devi kept her gaze pointed unswervingly at her boots, trying to block everything out.

She wasn't doing so well.

She wanted desperately to just return to the safety of her apartment, but her legs were still weak and wobbly. The paramedics had wanted to check her over as well but Devi had insisted that she was alright, just a little shell-shocked. The meds had then given her the blanket that she was now clinging to and told her to sit a spell until she was collected enough to walk around.

'Goddamn, it's cold.' She shivered slightly.

"Excuse me?"

Devi was startled out of her thoughts by a voice behind her. Turning, she saw one of the paramedics, a blond man in his thirties, standing a few feet away. He smiled, sheepishly. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare ya there, Miss …?"

Devi took a breath before answering. "Deseado. Devi Deseado. And you didn't scare me. I'm just a little… jumpy at the moment."

He nodded. "Completely understandable." He took a step closer, a look of concern forming on his face. "You sure you don't want us to look you over, Miss Deseado? You know, to make sure everything's in working order?"

Devi nodded. "Yes, I'm sure." She hesitated a moment before continuing, "Is… is the girl okay?"

The medic smiled again. "My partner and I just got done checking her out. She seems to be fine. Scared, but fine."

Devi nodded again, taking a quick glance at the ambulance. The girl, a slender young woman with brown hair and glasses, could be seen through one of the back windows. She seemed to be talking to the female medic, adjusting her glasses somewhat compulsively. Suddenly, she turned her head to look out the window. For a brief moment Devi and the girl's eyes met. Devi immediately looked back down at her feet.

"Good," she mumbled. "I'm glad she's alright."

There was a moment of silence between the two. The fuchsia-haired woman shivered as a chilled breeze hit her and she pulled the blanket tighter around herself. After what seemed like an eternity, the medic spoke up.

"Do you know him?"

Devi looked up sharply. "What?"

The paramedic had an unreadable expression on his face as he looked down at her. "The man who was in the accident. You wouldn't happen to know him, would you?"

The painter opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before going back to glare at her boots. "Why would you need to know that?" she asked finally.

She could see the man shrug out of the corner of her eye. "He didn't have any form of identification on him. It would seem that we have a John Doe on our hands." Devi couldn't help but wince slightly at the name. The damn medic must've caught it because he continued by saying, "That is, unless you who he is…"

Devi suddenly found herself quite angry. She turned to glare up at the man. "No," she fiercely stated, "I have no clue who the guy is."

The man quietly gazed down at her. Was that disbelief in his eyes, or was she just being paranoid? Finally, he spoke up, his voice infuriatingly gentle. "That's a shame. If we don't know who the man is, that'll make it quite difficult to notify any relatives about his condition. And he seemed to be pretty banged up, too. I'd hate to think of someone who's willing to save a complete stranger's life at the expense of his own laying broken and all alone in some hospital room -"

The medic was startled into silence as the painter suddenly stood up. Devi yanked the blanket off her shoulders and held it out to the man. "I think I've have more than enough time to "collect myself", _Doc_." Her voice was more chilly than the air around them. "So if you don't mind, I think I'll be heading home now."

The medic blinked than nodded, "Of course." He took the blanket from her. "I'm glad to see you on your feet."

Devi gave a curt nod before turning on her heel and walking towards her apartment complex. She had only taken a few steps before she heard the medic call behind her.

"He's at St. Frances."

She paused and turned. "What?"

The medic wasn't looking at her. Instead, his eyes were focused on the blanket that he was leisurely folding. "That's where the other ambulance took our John Doe. St. Frances Hospital, over on the one on the north-side of town." When he was finished folding, he glanced over at her. "Just thought you might wanna know…"

Devi's hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. She sent the medic the most powerful death-glare she could muster before whipping back around and literally stomping the rest of the way back to her building…

* * *

"That bastard," she hissed bitterly, her voice echoing slightly around the tiled room. "Why'd he have to go and tell me what hospital _he _was in?"

After sitting on the bathroom floor for almost an hour, Devi finally started to calm down. Her eyes were swollen and sore from crying and her throat still felt raw, but oddly enough she felt the tiniest bit better. She was still far from stable, though. _'This is ridicules,'_ the painter thought, disgusted with herself, _'I just can't go falling to pieces because of what happened last night. I won't. I refuse!'_

'_I'd hate to think of someone who's willing to save a complete stranger's life at the expense of his own laying broken and all alone in some hospital room…'_

Devi let out a feral growl. "Son of a bitch…"

She slammed her fist against the bathtub, then let out a wavering sigh. "I-I don't know what to do. I… I need to talk to somebody…"

After thinking it over for a second, Devi came to a decision. She shakily brushed the back of her hand over her eyes, wiping away any remaining tears. Standing up on wobbly legs, the painter stumbled out of the bathroom in search of her telephone. She suddenly gave a wry smile.

'_I sure hope Tenna and "Spooky" don't mind a 4 AM wake up call…'_

TBC…

* * *

AN: Meh, I have mixed feelings with this chapter. I'm really happy with the ending, but not so much the beginning. I'd work more on it, but I know that if I do I'd probably mess it up more. Best to just let it be.

Ego: Wow. How very half-assed of you Fifi.

Fifi: *glares* Shut it! Anywhosits, please be kind dear readers and leave a review!

Id: Heeeeeeeeey. I just noticed, the girl who ran over Nny drove a "little white car". Don't YOU drive a little whit car Fifi?

Fifi: Uuuuummm…

Id: And you discribe the girl as being in her early twenties with brown hair and glasses. Aren't YOU in your early twenties, Fifi? And don't YOU have brown hair and glasses?

Fifi: ^_^;; Eheheheheh…

Ego: Oh dear lord. Please tell me that you didn't insert yourself into your own story.

Fifi: HEY! JHONEN VASQUEZ DOES IT ALL THE TIME!

Id: YOU'RE NOT JHONEN VASQUEZ, YOU SHMUCK!

Fifi: T-T


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